


Mess Crank

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Gated Community, Pets Allowed [7]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Pervertibles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will asking what we're having for dinner get me any answer at all?" He was testing, Tony knew, testing and holy shit, he was going to fail whatever this test was. Whether it was it compliance or defiance, it didn't matter. He was getting an F.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mess Crank

He was still adjusting to...

Well, all of it. Gibbs being a kinky bastard with a controlling streak was kind of a shock. Not the controlling streak, because that was old hat, that was showing up for muster, but the kinky shit was new and interesting and scary.

Scary being relative, anyway. Tony was kind of used to scary, just not from Gibbs. Well. Again with the relativity of things. This was just different, like the lady in the fantastic stilettos and corsetry from that one trip to Las Vegas a couple of years back.

Ending up as a sort of house husband was another thing he was starting to get used to, for that matter. Gibbs went off to work and he stayed him and made sure everything was squared away by the time he got back.

It was kind of getting really fucking boring, if Tony was honest about it. He needed a hobby, a hobby that wasn't re-living Rear Window. Though, that had been a really great movie, an ageless classic even if he'd called the ending right off.

At least Gibbs hadn't stuck him in an apron or anything. The kid living next door had this stupid ruffled thing that Tony had seen him wearing a couple of times when he was in the kitchen, and some things were just beyond bearing. He still wondered what was going to be coming at him on any given day. There was no guessing what hte hell was going on in Gibb's mind while he sat at his desk at a combatant command and wrote emails and daydreamed.

It was the daydreaming that was the most dangerous part to his way of thinking. He'd already met the business end of one hell of a bondage fantasy last week, and he wasn't sure he was all that prepared for another one, at least not just yet. Tony was all for kinky sex, but he'd somehow managed to hit the jackpot on that and still wasn't sure how to deal with it. After all... it was _Gibbs_ , not some pervy woman with fantastic hips.

Okay, so he'd spent years fantasizing about it, and it was just as good as he'd thought it would be, but still. It took some getting used to.

Watching the neighbors didn't help his shit, either, because they were so much more kinky and fucked up than he was really capable of dealing with if Gibbs was the dude dishing it out at him.

And he had maybe ten minutes before Gibbs got home.

Being bored sucked, and so he'd kind of put things off until the last minute. That meant breakfast dishes were still in the sink, and Gibbs was probably going to be cranky about that shit.

Maybe he should have asked the kid with the apron to come over and spiffy things up a bit. It seemed like the kind of weirdly non-pervy pervy thing he'd like.

Clean house, probably made dinner for the guy, yeah, never mind. Gibbs probably wouldn't be impressed with the stepford wife routine, either. He liked to hang out with determined, agressive redheads who could probably eat Tony's balls for dinenr without batting an eye. Like hell they made dinner if they didn't feel like doing it because they wanted to.

So pretty much he just had to say that he didn't want to.

Yeah, that was laughable, and so he went into the kitchen to do something about the mess. Traffic was usually pretty crappy, so it wasn't like Gibbs would be home in time to catch him washing up, right?

Gibbs was sitting on a highway turned parking lot because some dumbass pulling a boat around freaking Atlanta had broken down on a crazy junction and wrecked traffic for miles. Gibbs wasn't one of those people who whipped out a cell phone when he was angry and stuck in traffic, he just gritted through it.

Maybe he'd have time to finish watching _Gone With the Wind_ before he had to worry about dishes. Mmmm, Vivian Leigh....

That in mind, he half-turned to go back to the living room when the sound of the front door opening sent icy chills down his spine.

Oh.

Shit.

"I knocked twice -- the least you could do is open the damn door for me." Those were never happy noises to hear right off from Gibbs, because it meant shitty day as a desk jockey, and probably too many meetings and not enough getting shit right.

Crap, crap, crap. "Yeah, I was, uh. Just. How about you have a seat in the living room and I'll go make coffee, just how you like it. Strong and black and...." Crap, crap, crap.

"Will asking what we're having for dinner get me any answer at all?" He was testing, Tony knew, testing and holy shit, he was going to fail whatever this test was. Whether it was it compliance or defiance, it didn't matter. He was getting an F.

Well, hell.

"You know, honestly? Pizza. Pretty much, because Gibbs, I'm kind of terrible in a kitchen. If by terrible, you were wanting something other than charcoal briquets."

"This weekend, I'll teach you to grill." Gibbs nodded his head, and okay, that wasn't as bad as Tony was expecting. Gibbs set his bag down, and shrugged out of his suitjacket. "Since you're already familiar with charcoal."

"Yeah, well, if you were expecting me to be little miss homemaker, I'm just saying that it's probably something I'm going to seriously disappoint you about." Better to get that statement out there before he saw the state of the kitchen. There had been coffee and toast and sandwiches for lunch and so... yeah.

Gibbs snorted, and Tony relaxed just a little as he watched Gibbs. "Get me coffee and order me pizza."

Thank god. That meant he'd probably settle in the living room and not know until later that the kitchen was kind of a disaster area. "Sure. Gimme ten." It wouldn't take that long, probably. Just a quick trip to set up the coffee pot and then he'd come back, google up a pizza place in the area. Maybe he'd even manage enough time to do something about the mess.

"Yeah. I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll be back." He stood up, stretching as he started to shrug out of his shirt. Maybe dinner would dissapear all together and turn into awesome sex.

Tony was all for some awesome sex. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd ended up where he was, and he damn sure wasn't sure what had led to where they were. He was pretty grateful for it, though, especially if it led to sex as hot as it had been the first time. Odds were, it would. He closed his eyes for a second, and then watched Gibbs disappear up the stairs before he turned to head into the kitchen and try to make it less of a wreck.

First, though, he was going to start coffee. Just in case he wasn't finished cleaning by the time Gibbs got back, he'd at least have caffiene to tame the tempestuous beast. Tony pulled the coffee off of the lazy susan and grabbed a filter. Having a plan was always a good thing for a guy living in the world of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He was probably five steps behind Gibbs, but sometimes he surprised the guy. Sometimes.

He was still cleaning the sink when he heard Gibbs come up behind him. "I know you're not going to be a homemaker, but you can police your mess."

...Shit.

What the hell was it, anyway? "Is it just some kind of unknowable Gibbs magic that you know everything? Or maybe you've got the place bugged."

"Just sharp eyes, Tony." He laid a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder. The air was just a little extra humid around Gibbs, smelled like shampoo. "I should beat your ass."

He didn't mean that. Right? He couldn't mean that, otherwise those fiery redheads would have sawed him off at the knees instead of only being bitter hags once the divorces were finalized. "C'mon, Gibbs. I'm getting it done now, right?"

Yeah. He should have asked the kid next door to do it. Slipped him a twenty or something.

"Who said the two things are related?" Gibbs's hand dropped down, and fingers just gave one tight pulsing squeeze of his left asscheek. He couldn't help the squeak he gave, or the sudden silence that followed it. The first time had been... kind of amazing, and really way kinky, and for some reason, Tony seemed to have decided that if keeping his mouth shut turned Gibbs on, then he'd keep right on doing it for as long as possible.

"What do you want? Rolling pin? Towel?" Gibbs's breath lingered behind his ear. "Hard or soft?"

"What the hell, Gibbs!" He just couldn't help talking. "Who the fuck considers a rolling pin fair play?" Whatever the case, it was a serious case of _Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!_ except for the part where it was Tony DiNozzo in danger.

"Spatula?" Gibb's mouth twitched, he could hear it, and then his fingers flexed.

Tony squeaked. "Spatula?" He didn't mean for it to be taken as agreement. "Oh, hey, wait, no, I....!"

Didn't even have thirty seconds, and he wasted all of that standing there shocked, because Gibbs reached over the counter and pulled the spatula from where it stood upside down for easy reach that Tony never needed. And then he smacked Tony's ass with it.

Tony squeaked. It was a completely unacceptable sound, but it was the only one he could make. The shock of it had him looking back at Gibbs, eyes wide. Clearly Gibbs was enjoying the hell out of shocking him. It was funny that the sting of that smack against the seat of his pants was secondary to the thought of Gibbs's enjoyment.

"Should I take your pants down?" Yes -- no? Was there a good answer, except to nod and chew a hole in his lip?

Clearly not, so he nodded his head jerkily and turned back around, looking straight out the kitchen window and into the yard next door as Gibbs undid his pants. The kid next door was lighting the barbecue, and Tony hoped like hell that he didn't look up.

Then again, it might be the least weird thing he'd seen in the neighborhood.

One-handed, Gibbs unbuckled his jeans, and pulled, pushed at the fabric until it bunched at his knees. He needed to get break away pants or something, or start wearing sweatpants in the house. The quick whap of plastic against his ass still startled him. It stung like a motherfucker, and he jumped, unable to keep himself from doing it.

"Spread your legs wider."

Fuck. Fuck, what, did he just _know_ what to say to turn Tony on and make him nervous all at once? It was kind of like being back in high school, except with less clothing and.. okay, a spatula instead of a paddle. He did what he was told, though.

The bright spot was that he hadn't gotten laid in high school when he was humiliated and scared and hard as a rock, and Gibbs still fucked him and blew him and Jesus, the next hit was to the inside of his ass, sensitive skin. He couldn't help gasping, but he could at least keep his mouth shut.

Another firm pop, just where ass and thigh met, and Christ almighty that stung like hell. Seriously, he was starting to wonder about boot camp, and if maybe the Marines were a hell of a lot kinkier than anybody gave them credit for being. Maybe he just needed to give them more credit, because that, right there, and the next pop on the other side, a slap right across one cheek that made his hips jar forward, felt like it'd been delivered by something other than a damn spatula. If he thought it would help, he'd blurt out a world of sorries, and he damn sure didn't plan on leaving the dishes in the sink anytime soon. At least not until he could sit comfortably again, because he wasn't so sure that would be anytime soon, either.

It halted, just long enough for Gibbs to slide a hand around to squeeze his dick. "You like this." No shit he liked it, he was there for a reason seperate of rescue theatre.

Sometimes his mouth got ahead of his brain. "Well no shit!" It was mostly gasped, because that was kind of good right there. Gibbs was stroking him a little, and wow, but he wanted that again and now would be amazingly fantastically okay with him.

Stroking and getting his ass smacked, and talking, cussing or maybe it was just Gibbs's mood, got him a harder spatula smack against the other leg's crease, enough to make his knee wobble.

Fuuuuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, and maybe he was chanting it a little, squirming between two very different touches. He opened his eyes, and looked out the window, and there was the kid, watching him with his mouth quirked as if he knew exactly what was going on.

Fuck.

One last smack resonated against his skin, and then Gibbs was stepping back, and he'd stopped jacking him off, which was horrible, worse than the crack against his skin. "Hold on, let me grab something..."

That left Tony feeling a little wild-eyed, or maybe a lot, because shit. What was he going for, the goddamned rolling pin? Seriously, he was worried, and the kid was out there saying something to that crazy political writer, and they were laughing about it, and it was kind of bizarre to be standing at the kitchen sink watching out the window and waiting.

Gibbs was back fast, but he'd come out of the pantry, which left Tony worrying because he was pretty sure there were just canned goods in there. He wasn't really expecting slick fingers pressing at his asshole. "Fuck!"

Fuck, that was. That was unexpected, and it was a fantastically good kind of unexpected at that. He shoved his ass back to the intruding touch, because that made up for the stupid damn spatula. Never mind that he'd liked it.

That the hot skin felt good when it brushed Gibbs's wrist, when he felt Gibbs leaning against him, a jingle of belt that nearly sang that Tony was going to get fucked. Fucked, fucked, dicked, pronged, blissfully wonderfully screwed, and he couldn't help panting as Gibbs worked him open, fast and hard. He wanted to yell, plead, but he knew it turned Gibbs on when he managed to keep his mouth shut, so he did his best.

He tried real hard and groaned a little and that was probably okay with Gibbs because he was pulling his fingers out, and just getting shoved into, hard enough to make him grunt. Make him want, and Tony tried to push his ass back hard, get more of it. It burned, too much, too soon, and he didn't give a damn. He just wanted it, and Gibbs was giving it too him just as fast as he could take it.

In deep, maybe all the way in, but Tony didn't have time and room to work out when he was all the way in because Gibbs wrapped fingers around his hips and started to piston fuck him. Like he was fucking the stress out of his own back, and Tony bent as much as he could, putting an elbow on the metal bridge between the sinks, the other one digging into the damn dish drainer.

The guy in the yard looked like he was cheering.

And Gibbs didn't care, or maybe he liked it, which was something else for Tony to consider when his dick wasn't rubbing against the counter's front. Steady, smacking just a little into the groove between the top of the drawer and the counter itself, and he shoved back hard to try and get a little more room, or maybe to persuade Gibbs to put his damn hand back where it would do some good. Either one, and when Gibbs actually did it, he couldn't keep back the groan that snuck up from his chest.

So good, so so very good, that fist around his dick, that his leg would've thumped if it wouldn't have made him just feel that cock up his ass all the more. Gibbs changed the angle a little, gave Tony that extra room, and smacked his hips against one welt. There was something so fucking good in that, something that struck him, and he clenched, a full body shudder rippling through him as he came and came and came.

Tony Dinozzo, pain slut.

Again and again, and if Gibbs came in there, or when he came didn't matter. "I'm not sure slut's the word." He was still pressed up close behind him.

"I dunno." He didn't remember saying it out loud, but what the hell. "Kinda tends to be how it works out around you, I've noticed."

"Nah. It's just you and me." Gibbs nosed a kiss against the back of his neck. "I'll order pizza if you need to shower."

Yeah. "Sounds good." If he could get his knees to work, and hey. There were only a couple of dishes left in the sink. Maybe that was acceptable.

He was still going to knock the lights out of the guy next door.


End file.
